Page 23 of Prince Charming

It was short-lived, thank goodness. The features to come into focus through her blurry eyes belonged to Tag’s face.

Fire-like relief stung her nose.

She was more freaked out that she wasn’t freaked out waking up with him.

In her haste to move, she about tumbled to the floor, if not for his quick hands catching her. “Careful, darlin’. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“What… how… what?”

“All great question starters.” He smirked, and that little lip twitch put her thumping heart at ease. But it did not tell her why she was in his arms on her couch.

And then she remembered.

Tag moved, groaning some as he straighten his body, filling the entire two-seater couch when he stretched arms above his head.

Snatches of last night came back to her as she stared into brilliant ocean eyes.

And then it dumped on her all at once.

What she told him.

How she reacted.

What she couldn’t take back.

* * *

LAST NIGHT

There was a routine to Tag, she noted early on.

He’d allow a few days to lapse before he dropped by her apartment or called her into the office at the gym to see how she was.

After watching him training and sweating for five days, using his body as a lethal weapon to overpower his opponent, she felt it in her bones tonight he’d drop by.

She cleaned every speck of dust and shined the surfaces like she thought the Queen of Genovia was coming to tea.

Nerves clattering through the top layer of skin when she heard the familiar pipes of a motorcycle, nearly hyperventilated.

Far from fearful. He didn’t annoy her either.

She found his tactics of friendship quite endearing.

“Breathe, Marianna.Breathe. He’s not the boogeyman.”

The massive mountain of a man who smiled too much and had a cocky swagger to his words and his walk. The man who always watched her with a hot gaze from beneath his hooded eyes. He was no one to fear. Then why was she shaking?

Something changed in the last few days during his workouts.

She told herself she was watching to make sure he didn’t break his face more than he had already. He’d healed, sure. But men were especially stupid with their wellbeing.

Marianna hovered in the doorway at first.

Watching him aiming kicks, jabbing punches.

And then a day later she moved closer to the ring. And then closer still, until she could see the whites of his eyes, see the enjoyment he derived from overpowering with skill.

His body was a machine. Honed to perfection.

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